


Brothers

by igor_the_quail



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igor_the_quail/pseuds/igor_the_quail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean confides in his brother.<br/>Because he have to talk with someone about it. Because it's getting him down. </p><p>Because he’s in love with a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, welcome to my first story. I hope, you'll like it :)

Dean stood on the balcony, the summer sun warmed his back and he looked over Auckland thoughtfully, glanced at the sparkling sea. He’d always been a little envious of Brett’s apartment. It was housed in one of these large high-rise buildings, near the top, offering a breathtaking view over the city and the sea. Dean slowly took a pull on his cigarette, blew the smoke into the azure blue sky.

"I thought you wanted to quit?" Brett joined him on the balcony and handed him a cold beer.

"Thanks," murmured Dean and watched his younger brother who leaned against the balcony railing and took a sip from his own bottle. Dean took a pull on his cigarette again before he flicked it from the balcony with a slightly disgusted look. "You're right."

"I'm always right," Brett grinned. Then he turned serious. "What's up, mate. You've got something on your mind. I see it on your face."

"You think?"

Brett shrugged. "I'm your brother," he said as if this was reason enough.

Dean laughed joylessly. He took another sip from the bottle. The beer suddenly tasted odd.

He put the bottle down on the railing and ran his hands over his face. "I ..." he began but broke off only a moment later. Bloody hell, he’d come to talk and now he didn’t even know what to say ... how to start ...

"You ...?" Brett looked at him expectantly. "Dean ... You can tell me anything, you know, do you?"

Dean sighed. "I ... I just don’t know how to begin."

"At the beginning, probably." Brett smiled. "Come on, Dean. Spit it out. "

"That's not so easy," Dean muttered. Then he grasped into his back pocket and fished out a packet of fags. He lit one and inhaled deeply.

"That bad? Did you do something wrong? Problems?" The silly undertone had vanished from Brett’s voice.

Dean exhaled long before he looked his brother in the eye, in the same ice-blue eyes which he called his own, too. Who else he could talk to if he didn’t even have the guts to open his mouth in front of his brother? And he had to speak with someone because if he doesn't he would go mad, probably.

He pulled tight on his cigarette. "No, no problems. Not with the law or the job if you mean that, anyway."

Brett grabbed Dean's shoulder, squeezed encouraging. Dean was very grateful for this gesture.

He took a deep breath before he muttered scarcely audible: "I think I'm … gay, Brett."

There, said it. Dean pulled hasty on his cigarette to bring his trembling hands under control. He hardly felt relieved. Rather it was terribly cold despite the sun which was still burning on his back.

When Brett didn’t respond Dean turned towards him, looked at him. And in his face he saw the same confusion, the same disbelief that he felt within himself.

"But ... But ... I mean ... What are you talking about?" Brett shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. "You’ve had several girlfriends. You're not gay."

For the last time Dean pulled on the fag, than he threw it into the abyss. "Shit, I don’t know either, Brett." Dean tore at his blond curls. "I only know that I run after a ... fucking ... bloke! Fuck!"

"Jesus, Dean." Brett looked at him, he seemed to be in a complete tizzy. "I really don’t know what to say. I expected ANYTHING apart from this. If you’d said you've broken into a car, I’d rather bought that!"

"You don’t believe me?" Dean said sharply. "Do you think it’s a joke?!"

"Hell no! I didn’t mean it like that and you know it!" Brett's voice was harsh. Then he added more gently: "Sorry. I ... Oh, shit." He made a helpless gesture with his hands.

"You said it." Dean gave his brother a look of apology. "I'm sorry. I didn’t want to snarl at you."

"It's ok." Brett smiled weakly though he was in no laughing mood.

Dean reached for the packet of fags lying next to his hand on the balcony railing, but Brett was faster. He grabbed the packet, crumpled it and threw it through the open balcony door into the apartment. "How about if you leave this lousy smoking alone and tell me instead what's wrong with you?!"

"I have a crush on a man that’s wrong with me" Dean snorted and he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. "Don’t ask me how that happened. I don’t know. I have no fucking idea why, Brett."

"Do I know him?"

"No. He is a workmate."

"From the Johnsons?"

"No."

"Dean ... If I have to worm everything out of you then we can stop this conversation now. Because I have no desire to." Brett grabbed Dean's shoulder to turn him over. Looked at him seriously. "I thought you wanted to tell me? Then tell."

Dean sighed. "I got to know him on the set of the Hobbit."

"A dwarf?"

"Yes." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He felt rather unsettled.

"Does he know about your feelings?"

"For God’s sake, no. He has a girlfriend." Dean looked absolutely horrified.

"Oh Dean," Brett sighed. "But why then did you become attached to him?"

Dean smiled sadly. "No idea. It just happened."

"Does your mysterious man have a name? Where does he come from, how old is he? Come on, Dean." Brett squeezed the lower arm of his older brother encouraging.

Dean smiled. For the first time on that day it didn’t seemed cramped. "Yes, he has. Aidan. He’s from Dublin and is, I think, twenty-nine. Wait, I have a photo." Dean fumbled for his iPhone. After he briefly scrolled through the menu he showed his brother the smartphone.

"Doesn’t look very Irish," Brett grinned. "Seems to be a nice guy. Where was that?"

Dean laughed. "He is nice. That was in Wellington in a bar where we drank to the birthday of a colleague." His eyes were soft as he looked at the picture, too.

"You like him very much," Brett noticed seriously.

Dean put the iPhone back into his pocket. "Yes. He is very important to me. A close friend." He looked over Auckland in silence. "I miss him."

"Are you still in contact with him?" Brett also leaned with his lower arms on the balcony railing. His shoulder touched Dean’s.

"Yeah. Almost every week. We skype regularly but the time difference is really annoying." Dean swallowed, rubbed a hand over his face. "But it's just not the same. Once you’ve met every day over a year and a half and then suddenly everything stops ... I miss him so much. We often sat together in the evening in the trailer, watched some movies, played on the PS3, talked." Dean paused, sipped his beer. "We hung around together always and everywhere."

"And how did it happen that you’ve fallen in love with him?"

"I don’t know, honestly. It just happened. But Aidan is a guy that you have to like. When he laughs the sun rises. I kid you not, cheesy as it sounds. You have a lot of fun when you're with him. You can so fuck up with him. He is loyal, honest, polite, helpful and ... he’s just awesome."

"You totally have a crush on him" Brett grinned. "You ought to see your face."

Dean coloured out to his ears. "Ha, ha."

Brett slapped him hard on the back. "I've never seen you like this. Like a girl, like a girl!" He laughed loudly.

"Cut the crap," Dean growled. "You know that I'm serious."

Brett pulled oneself together but he couldn’t really wipe the grin from his lips. "Okay. Sorry. And since when ... well ... do you know that you go for him?"

Dean blushed again. He was embarrassed to talk about it, especially since Brett grinned at him so shamelessly. "Since we kissed."

"What?" Brett looked at him incredulously. "I thought that Aidan is not gay. He has a girlfriend, you said."

"He's not gay!"

"Hell yeah! As little as you are, or what?"

"Damn, Brett! We were both very pissed, it was our last night before everyone went home. We painted the town. It ... It was an accident. He probably can’t remember at all."

"Have you ever talked to him about that?"

Dean leaned his forearms on the railing and pressed his head between his elbows. "No," he mumbled. "There was no chance to. A short goodbye at the airport and he was gone."

"Why didn’t you visit him in Dublin?"

"He invited me but I turned him down."

"Why?"

Dean sighed heavily. "I was afraid that he can remember, nevertheless."

"And that would have been so bad?"

"Yes! Damn, I kissed him. Not he me!" Dean pressed his head deeper between his arms. His forehead touched the balcony railing.

"But he kissed you back."

"Yeah ..."

Dean felt Brett's warm hand on his back, scratching him lazily.

"Dean ... No one allows his mate to kiss him, even if he’s a good friend and you're totally pissed," he said earnestly. "Not even to say goodbye."

"I know ..."

"And why the hell didn’t you fly to Dublin when he invited you? He’ll think you don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore!" Brett grabbed his shoulder, straightened him and looked at him with puckered brows. "Idiot!"

Dean wriggled out of Brett’s clutch. "Do you think it's that simple?! To admit that you go for a guy? I was - am - utterly confused, Brett." He tore at his hair hard. "I've ruined everything with that fucking kiss!"

"Oh, Dean ..."

"I really wanted to forget it. I thought if I just pretended the kiss never happened the feelings would go away somehow. But this kiss ... It was as if someone had pulled the bung! It’s getting worse and worse, I can’t stop thinking about him and when I do, I have fucking butterflies in my stomach! I miss him so!" Dean took a step towards Brett, grabbed him by the shoulders, his gaze desperately. "Brett, when I have a wank, I think of him ... and it turns me on. It turns me so fucking on!" His fingers dug hard into Brett's skin, he shook his little brother. "It’s getting me down, Brett!"

Brett wrapped his arms around Dean, held him. "I'm sorry, Dean." He slipped a hand in Dean's neck, ran his fingers through Dean’s soft hair. "I wish I could help you." Dean hugged him back, buried his face in Brett's neck.

"Me too ...," Dean said quietly. "You know, it scares me so much that I’ll meet him in a few days. I won’t be able to look him in the eye."

"Ah yeah, the premiere ..." Brett still ruffled his neck. They stood quiet on the balcony for several minutes, didn’t say a word. Only the distant cries of the seagulls over the harbour of Auckland broke the silence. "Dean ..."

"Mh?"

"Talk to him." Brett squeezed his brother, his blue eyes looked at him sternly. "He's a good friend, you said. You said that you can tell him everything. Then clear the air. Otherwise it’s getting you down more and more."

"But I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose him ..." Dean said sad at heart. "Why the fuck did this happen to me? I don’t understand it. I'm not gay."

"Dean. There is no point in asking such questions, no one can give you an answer, so stop it. But what I can tell you is that I’m sure he’ll listen to you. He won’t condemn you. On the contrary, I think he might be just as confused as you are. Because, as I said, no one kisses his mate for no reason."

Brett smiled at him. "Who knows, maybe he feels like you?"

Dean snorted softly, but he couldn’t restrain the grin that crept on his lips. He reached for his beer, which was lukewarm and flat now. Nevertheless, it tasted much better than at the beginning of the conversation.

"Thank you ..."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well ... I'm sure, you noticed that english isn't my first language. I hope you liked it nevertheless. 
> 
> I would be very grateful for a review, please tell me when I did mistakes in spelling, grammatics etc. 
> 
> Thank you! :)


End file.
